Hands
I can still remember your hands
So well-tended and pristine
Painting the world with patterns and
Colors I have never seen
And still imprisoned in my mind
Every detail, fair and flawed
And hopes of touches cruel or kind
By fantasy or façade
And handcuffed in famished quicksand
Sits my wish to set you free
I can still remember your hands…
Although they never touched me
© Jerod Scott
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